I told myself he made sense.
Houses were expensive.
His promotion was not final yet.
Marriage was just paperwork anyway.
That was his favorite joke.
“It’s just a piece of paper,” he would say with a grin. “We’re already a team.”
Still, I had noticed things.
His bank account stayed in his name.
Mine stayed in mine.
He called it practical.
“Just for now,” he always said.
That night, I lay awake listening to him breathe beside me and convinced myself I was being impatient.
I had no idea that one ordinary Tuesday would undo every comforting story I had told myself.
Tuesday afternoon, I came home from the gym earlier than usual. My class had been canceled, and rain had started falling, so I jogged the last two blocks to our apartment.
Luke’s keys were already in the bowl by the door.
He was off work that day.
I slipped out of my sneakers quietly, hoping to surprise him.
Then I heard his voice from the bedroom.
Low.
Relaxed.
The voice he used when talking to Donald.
I smiled and took a step closer.
Then I heard my name.
“Emma? Come on, Donald. It’s not that serious.”
I stopped in the hallway.
My hand tightened around the strap of my gym bag.
Luke laughed.
“Just because we’ve been together for eight years doesn’t mean anything.”
The words landed slowly.
Then he kept going.
